


Unspoken Words

by garrisonbabe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel's POV, First Kiss, Hand Jobs, Inner Dialogue, M/M, POV First Person, Prayer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-18
Updated: 2012-12-18
Packaged: 2017-11-21 11:08:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/597043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/garrisonbabe/pseuds/garrisonbabe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel can remember every moment he's ever spent with and away from Dean. The best times are when Dean prays.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unspoken Words

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own anything here, this is all just for fun. Kripke's the one you want to blame.
> 
> Enjoy!

The best moments are when Dean prays. Despite what he may think, he does it often. Mostly it’s unintentional. His errant thoughts are sometimes filled with so much emotion that I can’t help but pick up on them. Something as simple as seeing his brother come back from an errand unharmed is enough to have his heart screaming with joy. Other times the unbidden flashback of Sam jumping headlong into the cage will leave him reeling. For some reason he’s always surprised when I arrive to comfort him. He’s never ungrateful, though. We’ll share a drink and maybe some food, even though I don’t have to eat. There are many things I’ve done for him that I didn’t have to.

Those small prayers will make my wings fidget, my halo throb with a small bit of power from the direct attention. That never ceases to amaze me. When he prays, even without intent, it is always to me. I always answer, always. He gives me that much, the least I can do is my job as his guardian.

One of the most beautiful prayers from him is saved in my memory, word for word. _“Cas, look, I know you’re runnin’ around doin’ whatever to keep Heaven organized. I just… I haven’t seen you in a few weeks and I was hopin’ you’d come around. Sam says I’m drivin’ him nuts down here so, I’m pretty sure if you don’t get your feathery ass down here he’s gonna shoot me and give you a reason.”_ He laughed softly and I followed the sound to a run-down house they’d commandeered.

 _“I doubt Sam would truly shoot you, Dean.”_ He looked upon me and sent another prayer, one of gratitude and joy.

Emotions run so deep in Dean that they can sometimes be mistaken for other things. They are so intense that for me to fully examine them used to be an impossible task. My own were excruciating enough without adding more. I could barely contain them, even the more positive ones. All I could do most days was manage myself and let his heart-sent prayers feed me small pieces of relief.

Even in his sleep he prays. In the beginning I would find myself drawn to him, nightmares of Hell clawing into his unconscious hours. The time when he was supposed to be resting turned out to be the most stressful of all. I did what I could, appeasing some of the pain and darkness. Looking back I wish I would have done more for him.

There’s another prayer from him that I have memorized. He was asleep when it went out, but it wasn’t like the others. It was actually unlike any other before it, though more like it followed. Imagine, if you will, my slight confusion and great surprise when I landed in Dean’s hotel room to find him not simply calling my name, but _moaning_ it. This wasn’t something I’d anticipated at the onset of our friendship.

I feel as though I should clarify here. I, myself, had indeed felt desire. Much of it was directed at Dean, though I imagine this fact would be obvious to those closest to us. What I hadn’t expected was for him to return it in any form. He’s always so full of surprises. So, upon the revelation that he did return my feelings I did something rather embarrassing, shameful, even. I ran away.

I needed time to think and organize my thoughts. Love was something I’d known to be either constricting, as was the case with Heaven where love and obedience were one and the same, or painful, where my own for Dean had been entirely unrequited and had led to a brothel at one point. I’ve faced demons less daunting than the den of iniquity Dean dragged me to. To this day I’d rather happily fist-fight Alistair than attempt another expedition to a whorehouse.

Dean, however, as stubborn as he is, didn’t let me run for long. He broke his arm and begrudgingly asked me to heal it. Whether or not you realize it, humans have it easy when it comes to sex and desire. You have your whole lives to get used to it. I’d only had three days of witnessing my friend with a hand wrapped around his erection, moaning my name before I had to _touch_ him. 

Perhaps I’m being melodramatic.

I arrived swiftly, because I could never conceive of ignoring a prayer from Dean, even if I’m panicking. His smile was another prayer to me when his arm was made whole. I’m well aware that humans have a concept of tact and social norms. Kissing is something that, for as simple as the act is, is remarkably complex in its execution. I must say it’s rather distressing to lose more than two-thousand years of observation and learning in a space of time long enough to push Dean into a wall and attack him with my mouth. In that moment I may as well have never witnessed the millions upon billions of human relationships I had, because all prior knowledge failed me. 

I pushed him into the wall and felt the soft skin of his lips against mine. Every point of friction from his stubble against my skin was a shock that lit the nerves of my vessel. It wasn’t until his hands were on me that I was forced back into reality. Horror flooded through my grace, embarrassment and outrage toward myself following shortly after because I’d kissed him without asking if he was willing. I was also aroused. No one tells you it has the capability of being painful. 

Once again, I ran away.

I could hear Dean cursing behind me as I flew off. He didn’t stop cursing and yelling at me for nearly three days. When I said I have never ignored a prayer from Dean, I was perhaps… well, I was lying because I would have taken being trapped in a ring of holy fire face to face with Lucifer to all of the unknowns of seeing Dean again. I thought that surely I’d ruined our friendship, that I’d angered him and done something unspeakable to humans. If an angel were to proposition another angel so boldly without inquiring about their consent the resulting fight and fallout would be terrible. There was a reason I’d never bothered with “cloud seeding” as Dean had so colorfully described.

It wasn’t until Sam prayed that I finally returned. My brothers can say many things about how small humans are. They’ve never been thrown bodily through a doorway by Sam Winchester. On second thought, I think Balthazar has, though I’m unsure if he was thrown or carried. It’s not of import.

Dean stood when I stumbled in, his face clearly set in both panic and anger. I opened my mouth to speak but he shook his head and took the lead. One thing I learned very quickly was not to try and speak over Dean. He will always out-yell you and failing that he is entirely willing to shove something in your mouth to gag you temporarily. 

“Cas, where the hell have you been? I’ve been calling you for days, man! What the fuck?” I tried not to flinch as his raspy voice rose, I had no reason to fear him after all, though I find my vessel doing many confusing things when I’ve not given it permission. “Y-You kiss me, then you just look like at me like I fucking stabbed you with your own sword and then you run off without saying anything? Dammit Cas!”

“I didn’t believe you’d want to see me.”

“Then why the hell would I spend three days and two bags of cough drops yelling myself hoarse dumbass?” He had a point that I wasn’t willing to concede to at the time. I tried to look away, but he caught my sight and drew my eyes back, staring at me with another prayer ringing in his mind. Guilt was something I’d had little experience with until that moment. The prayer in Dean’s mind was that I wouldn’t leave again, that I’d stay. My own cowardice made him believe I would abandon him at the slightest provocation, that somehow I’d left because I didn’t want to be there. “Cas?” A man so strong should never be forced to speak with a voice so small.

I’d decided that the kiss hadn’t damaged anything. Rather, my unwillingness to stay and talk was what had nearly broken the relationship we’d built. Dean once told me I have a tendency to overthink things. He was right. I reached out and pulled Dean against me. The first kiss may have been disastrous, but the second was as close to perfection as I could have hoped.

Dean lowered me to the bed, somehow managing to have removed my overcoat and suit jacket without my noticing. The overwhelming sensation involved was almost unnerving in how much it made me crave more. Dean tasted faintly of the whisky he’d been drinking before I arrived. I could feel the cooling sensation of the menthol from the cough drop on the insides of his lips and cheeks. His tongue rubbed along mine, his hands never stopping as they continued to disrobe me. I contemplated willing the clothing away, but concluded it would be better to let it happen at Dean’s pace. The button down was opened and pulled away from my body, the tie slipped over my head on the almost war-like path Dean led against my garments.

He broke the kiss enough to sit up and remove his own shirt. It occurred me how much context can change a familiar sight. His skin was tan, he and Sam working a series of hoodoo cases in the deep South punctuated with what Dean would later describe as a “mental health day” at the beach. I leaned up and kissed along his chest, rubbing the tense muscles of his back with care. My right hand wove its own path up to his shoulder, fitting over my mark. An audible snap of electricity caused us to look at each other, the thin barrier of his soul reaching out to find my grace as we connected. As overwhelming as the physical pleasure was, that simple touch threatened to unmake me.

He shoved me back down and kissed me again, this time on my neck. Gentle bites teased my skin, the surface tingling once he moved to a new spot. Our hips rolled languidly, a soft rhythm forming as we sought pleasure. His hands gripped my skin firmly, but not roughly. Warmth spread through me, Dean’s skin on mine seeming to become an act of worship as we moved together. 

The moment he took me into his hand was a shock. I could feel every cell within the limb, felt as though the individual atoms were coming apart and reforming around my flesh. The details on whether or not my true voice slipped out are still muddled at best. What I remember from it is the way Dean’s eyes were almost glowing. Once I reached out to read his emotions I knew my mistake. The gratitude, the joy, they were pieces of walls, not a foundation.

Humanity’s love is something I will forever try to teach my brothers as I continue to lead Heaven. Even until after both Dean and Sam have joined us there. Some of them still don’t see it the way I do. In case you’re still unclear, allow me to share with you the most intimate prayer I know of Dean’s.

His hand was still wrapped around me, his fingers squeezing as his wrist twisted and rolled perfectly. My eyes closed and even as my senses dulled I could still hear him. _I love you, fucking love you, Cas, **loveyou**._

The best moments will always be when Dean prays.

**Author's Note:**

> This went from the idea of Dean and Cas in the middle of it when Dean begins to pray to tease Cas to first person POV, Cas remembering Dean praying during sex to... well... this. My porn has a habit of turning to romance. I think it's an illness. Anyway, let me know what you think. 
> 
> This is dedicated to the lovely Liz, aka, [pumpkinlessidjit](http://pumpkinlessidjit.tumblr.com/) over on tumblr. Hope you like it ;]


End file.
